


It's Been a Long Time but I'll Help You Remember

by writerseventeen



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, post season five finale, they were once together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerseventeen/pseuds/writerseventeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon meets Robb in the afterlife. </p><p>When given the opportunity to be reborn, Jon must make a choice. </p><p>However, Robb doesn't make it an easy one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Been a Long Time but I'll Help You Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first time writing in the Game of Thrones fandom! I'm all up to date with the show, season six was absolutely incredible and everything I've ever wanted haha but I've had this idea in my mind since the end of last season. And also who doesn't miss Robb Stark? Please enjoy and feel free to leave me any feedback! Thanks enjoy!!

When Jon opens his eyes again he knows he’s dead.

 

He feels nothing but the familiar sense of plain existence. He’s breathing and blinking and standing. His eyes are working, he thinks, although he can only see darkness. He feels down his chest expecting to touch the horrific gashes left by those who stabbed him however; his hands only run along smooth, unmarred flesh.

 

Jon has no idea what to do. It’s safe to say, he has absolutely zero experience with the afterlife. He was never a religious man, thus- he lacks what he supposes is a ‘basic understanding’ of where he’s been sent to.

 

As far as he can tell, the afterlife is dark and filled with nothing. However, it’s not an unsettling nothing, in fact, it’s rather calming. Only silence exists around him but he does not feel disturbed by the lack of sound. A feeling of relaxation gradually settles over him; he wants to close his eyes and fall asleep. 

 

Then there’s a sound behind him. Approaching footsteps tread carefully towards him. His eyes still only perceive darkness and Jon quickly becomes agitated. He feels vulnerable to whatever mysterious entity is coming for him. Is it a God? Is it not? Is it something worse?

 

His breath is coming out raggedly and he desperately wishes there was some form of light around him.

 

Apprehension begins to overwhelm him and he decides to use his voice.

 

“Who’s there?” Jon asks, voice gravely and hoarse.

 

His voice echoes eerily through the dark chamber. Suddenly, the footsteps stop and light begins to slowly flood the room. The lighting is dim, like that from a distant fire, but Jon can clearly see what’s in front of him and his breath hitches.

 

Robb Stark stands before him, his mouth slightly ajar and blue eyes widening in disbelief. If Jon wasn’t already dead; he thinks he’d be having a heart attack and dropping to the floor right about now.

 

The young wolf stands a few feet away, eyes panning down Jon’s body and back up again repeatedly; his mouth still hanging open in shock. He’s exactly how Jon remembers him the day he left Winterfell all those years ago: a few inches taller than himself with curly auburn hair, lean build, bright blue eyes, and a growing beard. Jon’s legs feel weak.

 

Minutes passed as the two young men simply stared at one another. Their eyes were locked in an un-breakable connection. Each man’s gaze intently searched behind the other’s eyes, attempting to read, to unfold the secrets of lost time, hungry for answers that could be easily spoken.

 

Jon was quaking with the desire to rush towards Robb and envelop him with all his might but his feet felt stuck to the floor. His fingers twitched anxiously by his sides. He still couldn’t comprehend this situation because, ‘ _Gods Robb was right there. He’s right in front of me. I’d never thought I’d see him again,’_ was overwhelming his mind.

Jon watches Robb open and close his mouth a few times, attempting to formulate actual words, but _Gods, what to say_?! Their eyes were still locked and after a few more of Robb’s failed attempts at speaking Jon unexpectedly laughs. That breaks the ice, and then Robb is smiling and his eyes are filling with tears and they’re both rushing towards one another as fast as they could.

 

Jon’s arms flung themselves tightly around Robb’s neck and the Tully man’s arms encircled Jon’s waist, fingers interlocking behind the small of his back. Robb tugged Jon closer till the younger man rested flush up against his torso and he could feel Jon’s racing heart against his own. Jon hugged his arms even tighter around Robb’s neck, probably near choking him but neither cared. They both needed the closeness; they needed to be as close as possible.

 

Robb’s head was buried into his brother’s neck, choking back sobs while his tears soaked into Jon’s skin. He felt so alive in his arms, body warm and pulsing with life beneath him. Jon squeezed his eyes shut, reveling in the warmness of the embrace and trying to combat his own tears. He just never thought he’d have Robb in his arms ever again.

 

Jon never got to say goodbye to his eldest brother. They shared a brief farewell before Jon left for the wall, embracing momentarily- before he rode for Castle Black. But Jon didn’t think it would be the last time he would ever see Robb alive because his brother had promised him he’d visit him as soon as Jon settled in. Months had passed of Jon looking forward to his brother’s arrival.

 

Jon could have never predicated his brother, who was promised so much, would die so young. He could have never predicated that Robb Stark would be brutally murdered by those who had pledged allegiance to him. That he would be betrayed.

 

When news of Robb’s death had reached Castle Black, Jon had nearly quit the Night’s Watch then and there and rode off to avenge his fallen brother. Events outside of his control had compelled him to stay and he hated himself for that. He felt tied down and useless.

 

A fiery hatred had burned inside him for years after Robb’s death, itching at him to escape and murder every Frey and Bolton who had betrayed his brother. However as time passed and Jon’s watch was prolonged, he was forced to push aside the feelings and move on with his life.

 

When Jon was alive, he had quietly transformed himself to become as cold as ice, trained himself to un-feel in order to keep the pain away. But now, deceased and embracing his equally deceased brother, Jon felt his resolve crumble and tears welled up in his eyes. _Losing Robb had hurt so goddamn much but Jon never found time to hurt for him._ For years after Robb’s death, Jon could only feel the numbness of cold and the somber resignation of impending death. He let out a long overdue sob into Robb’s hair and pulled himself even closer.

 

And suddenly, he realized that he was tired of it all. He was tired of fighting, and killing, and leading. He was so goddamned tired.

When their emotions began to settle and their crying quelled, Jon slowly loosened his hold from around his brother’s neck and rested his forehead against his, bumping it gently. Robb let out a long shaky exhale against Jon’s lips and nuzzled affectionately back against Jon’s forehead, eyes still closed. The late Lord Commander studied his older brother’s face, recommitting Robb’s long lashes and full- red lips to memory.

 

Robb’s arms went to rest at Jon’s hips, gripping firmly, a sad smile stretching across his face. He slowly opened his eyes to return Jon’s stare and the younger man honestly couldn’t catch his breath while Robb’s clear, blue, familiar eyes were gazing at him so longingly.

 

“Jon,” whispered Robb, breaking out into a full on toothy smile.

 

Jon grinned, feeling like a boy again; hearing his name pass through Robb’s lips. “Robb, I-I,” stuttered Jon, desperately wanting to articulate to Robb how sorry he is and how much he’s missed him… explain all that has happened… His fists tightened in Robb’s curls.

 

“Jon, you, you’re-you’re actually here,” spoke Robb, hands scrambling to cradle the sides of Jon’s face reverently. Jon moved his hands to rest atop Robb’s, entwining their fingers together and keeping the young wolf’s hands in place. “I don’t believe it… but if you’re here that means… you… you’ve died,” spoke Robb quietly, eyes full of worry.

 

Jon took a deep steadying breath. “Yes, I’ve died. I was murdered.”

 

It felt strange to admit his own death aloud.

 

Robb frowned deeply, bowing and shaking his head. He looked away, blinking rapidly.

 

“What has _happened_ Jon?” asked Robb, his deep confident voice returning as Jon was once accustomed to. “How long has it been since I’ve…since I’ve gone.”

 

Jon bit his lip thinking hard. Time had seemed to pass so quickly at times and not fast enough at others. He knew it had been a good long while since Robb had died. So much had happened.

 

Robb, sensing Jon’s uneasiness, rubbed his thumbs over Jon’s cheekbones and gently traced over his features. A sad smile returned to Robb’s face. “I know it’s been a long time. You can tell me. Your face has gotten older, more of these,” observed Robb, ghosting a finger over the red scar across his eye.  “And you’ve grown out of your chubby cheeks,” teased Robb.

 

Jon huffed out a laugh. “Grown a beard too,”

 

“I see that, looks good on you,” complimented Robb, smiling slightly.

 

Jon was silent for a minute. “It’s been four years Robb-four years since you’ve passed.”

 

Robb nodded, closing his eyes. “That seems about right. It’s hard for me to tell down here, time seems to pass so quickly… but what happened to you Jon? How are you here? _Already.”_

“I became Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. I- I made a decision that turned my brothers against me; I was called a traitor and was stabbed for it,” finished Jon, the experience still so fresh in his mind.

 

Robb looked worried. “What decision did you make?”

 

“I led the Wildlings through the wall.”

 

“Why?” asked Robb, eyebrows furrowing.

 

Jon ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I had to save them Robb. The White Walkers have returned. I battled thousands of them North of the Wall. They’re invading soon but first they would’ve stopped to massacre all those innocent people. I’ve been held hostage by the Wildlings and they’re no murderous savages. They’re just people trying to survive as you and I were.” 

 

“Gods, I didn’t believe the White Walkers to ever be real. That’s- that’s a shock to put it lightly,” commented Robb, paling a bit, “It makes me sick that your own brothers turned against you. I thought the Night’s Watch was to be respectful of their leaders. I’m, I’m so sorry Jon. I would have never told you to go if I’ve known the truth-,”

 

“Don’t you dare feel guilty for any of this Robb. If anything I should be guilty. When I heard of you and your mother’s death… I-I wanted to desert the Night’s Watch immediately. I wanted to ride back to help-,”

 

“No,” spoke Robb firmly. “There was nothing you could’ve done Jon. The Frey’s, Boltons, and Lannisters had us trapped and it was my fault. I should’ve realized what was happening before- before I let myself lose everything.”

 

“Robb-,” began Jon.

 

“Have you any knowledge about Arya? Bran? Rickon? Sansa?” interrupted Robb. “Have you spoken to any of them? Are they still alive?” he questioned, voice desperate.

 

Jon shook his head remorsefully. “No, I’m sorry.”

 

Robbs face fell. Jon squeezed his brother’s wrists gently.

 

“Word doesn’t often reach Castle Black. I’ve tried to find them but I’ve been fighting for years and years Robb. Believe me. I wanted to search for them and return to Winterfell- slaughter those traitors occupying our home-,”

 

“No, Jon it’s alright. Nothing we say can change what has happened,” spoke Robb sagely. “We fought, we lost, and we died; it happens to all men eventually. I grieve over your death Jon and I’ve done nothing but grieve over mother and father since I’ve died. I don’t wish to mourn anymore Jon, please.”

“Okay Robb, okay,” agreed Jon quietly.

 

Suddenly the realization of death began to dawn over him, the idea that he would never truly live again clashed with the euphoria of reuniting with Robb. While his brother has had years to accept death, Jon has barely had an hour. His mind was telling him it was good to be at rest. Although a short life, Jon had felt old and weary come the time of his murder.

 

However, for some indescribable reason, there was a lingering part of him that wanted to return. The longer he stayed, the more intense the feeling became. It felt like an instinct, pulling him and urging him to return. He couldn’t tell why he was experiencing this all of a sudden; he was calm and at peace but a moment ago. The feeling was itching at him, like sparks of a fire scorching his flesh beneath the skin. His body began to heat up and shake.

 

“Jon? Jon- what’s happening?” worried Robb, gripping at his brother’s biceps, helping him remain upright. “You’re burning.”

 

“I- I don’t know,” grunted Jon, in pain. “There’s- there’s something-,”

 

Jon heard his brother’s breath hitch and he righted himself weakly to see what had happened. Across the room, appeared a wooden door. Jon felt instantaneously drawn toward it. He wanted to open it and step through it and the urge to do so was so strong it was pounding inside Jon’s head.

 

The younger brother lifted a weak arm and pointed at the door. Robb glanced at the door and then back at his brother a few times, worrying his lip between his teeth.

 

“Jon. Do you know what that is?”

 

“No but I need to go through it. I need to open it.”

 

“Jon.”

 

“Robb, please can you help me over?”

 

The older brother remained silent for a moment, studying Jon’s face intently. He stepped in front of his brother, blocking the door from view and placed his hands on Jon’s shoulders.

 

“Jon. If you walk through that door you’ll wake up.”

 

“I’ll- I’ll what? How do you know-,”

 

“I just _do_ Jon. Look,” sighed Robb deeply, “I’ve been alone here for years. I don’t know why the Gods have kept me here but I know there’s a better place… I feel it in my bones. I’m supposed to be there right now but for some God knows reason I _can’t_ get there. You’re the first person I’ve seen since arriving and your presence can’t be a coincidence. I think this means something.”

 

“Robb… what are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying that- I think I was sent here to wait for you. I think we’re meant to pass on to the next life together,” admitted Robb, blue eyes softening at Jon, brimming with affection. He reached for Jon’s hands and held them tightly in his, squeezing, pleading.

 

Jon felt his heart nearly seize. Gods, Robb hadn’t looked at him like that since… since…

 

“If what you say is true… Why is _that_ there?” questioned Jon fervently.

 

Robb looked at him solidly. “I bet someone is trying to bring you back.”

 

“Melisandre,” muttered Jon quietly to himself.

 

“Jon,” urged Robb, tilting his chin up to look at him. “Stay here with me. We can finally be…-,” Robb swallowed hard, eyes glassy. “Together.”

 

Jon stopped breathing altogether because well… he and Robb were never just brothers.

 

They could never be _just brothers_ not with the type of connection they shared. From their earliest days they had been drawn to one another. Jon can’t quite explain it, but every time he would look at Robb a drive deep would ignite within him- urging him, compelling him to be close- to be closest to Robb.

 

At first Jon was scared of the feeling; he believed it to be dangerous, with Catelyn hating him enough as is. She would most definitely not approve of Jon making attempts to be- friend her favorite son, the auburn haired boy who was of the highest Northern royalty. So he stayed well away from his older brother, isolated himself, until Robb flipped his world upside down.

 

As it turns out, Robb was hurting worse than he was. He suffered from the same instinct, the same need to always be close to Jon. As boys, he was the only Stark child, besides Arya, to show him any affection. He’d ask Jon to come outside with him, practice their swordsmanship, or go riding.

 

When he was young, Robb never understood why the majority of his family had scorned the quiet raven haired Jon Snow, whose brown eyes grew alight with fire when the sun shined through them. Jon had never smiled when they were together, despite Robb’s eager friendliness. That made Robb worry that Jon didn’t feel the same way about him, maybe didn’t even want to be friends.

 

He was persistent though; his father had taught him to never give up. He ignored his mother’s disappointed stares and invited Jon with him wherever he went. Never did he stop trying to make Jon smile. Robb had restless nights where he would lie awake, frustrated, pondering the possible ways he could make Jon smile in true happiness. He had dreams, wonderful dreams, dreams where Jon would _laugh_ but they were only fantasies.  

 

But one early morning, on the seventh day of summer when the sun was rising over the Eastern hills and Robb and he were lying under the canopies of the grand Weirwood trees. Robb had looked over at him and- and…

 

“Don’t say things like that Robb,” whispered Jon, pained.

 

It had been goddamned years since they’d last seen each other. For Christ sake it had been ages since they had been _together_ like _that_. Robb can’t possibly believe that Jon was the same doe eyed boy he once was before he left Winterfell.

 

Memories of what they once were- were fuzzy and distant in his mind. Before reuniting with Robb after his death, Jon had difficulty remembering what his brother’s face had even looked like. He could remember the passion, the intensity of emotions, but he couldn’t actually **_remember._**

 

He was hardly a man then, the Night’s Watch had changed him forever. Jon knows it had only been four years but it felt like fucking decades. Guilt washed over him from time to time, but Robb hadn’t been on his mind for quite a while, pushed to the back of his mind- to be remembered but no relived.

 

Obviously he could never forget him but- but Robb couldn’t just pretend Jon was the same. So much had happened in the years after Robb’s death. Jon had loved and lost and lost and lost and continued to lose everything he wished to preserve. Such deprivation would damage any man, in ways that permanently changed him.

 

It’s not that Jon had assumed Robb would forget about their once- relationship. It’s just that… well he never thought it would come into existence again… not even in the afterlife.

 

Jon glanced at the door. The feeling to walk through it was growing stronger.

 

“You want to leave don’t you,” stated Robb, looking back at the door.

 

Jon met his brother’s eyes in a remorseful manner. “I-I think I do.”

 

Robb looked away, biting his cheek in hurt and disbelief. After all he and Jon had gone through… with what they once were… How was Jon not convinced? Robb was always a persistent man; he wouldn’t let Jon walk out on him not when he finally had him again.

 

“If… I can make you remember,” spoke Robb slowly, “If I can help you remember what we once were… will you stay with me?” asked the older brother, determination emanating off every word.

 

Jon looked up at his brother, confused. “I want to remember again Robb… but how?”

 

Robb smiled at him and pressed his hands hard to Jon’s temple. The younger brother frowned, about to ask Robb what he was doing, but then he gasped as his world went white.

**Author's Note:**

> So yes end of part one. I think there will be about three parts where Robb helps Jon relive his memories of them together. Each memory will further complicate Jon's internal battle about staying or going. I really hope you guys like this and please comment and tell me what you think!! :)


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